Metal Gear Solid: Insurrection
by Smeehan98
Summary: Dragged from a peaceful retirement in the Alaskan wilderness, former FOXHOUND operative Solid Snake is forced to rejoin his old unit - alongside the newly minted Genome Soldiers - for one last job protecting experimental weapons from international espionage. When there's a schism in the ranks however, can Snake and his forces even hope to survive the coming storm?
1. Arrival

**A.N: Sometimes oldschool is the way to go, and it doesn't get more so than the original Metal Gear Solid game. This is an AU idea I've had for a while now. As one of I'm sure many who played MGS1 through to 3 but didn't get a 4 (Damn platform exclusives) the Patriots have always seemed the weakest part of the franchise. This is my response.**

**I don't own MGS blah blah blah Kojima and blah Konami own it I think blah.**

**Metal Gear Solid: Insurrection**

**00000**

**A Brief Summary:**

**1964 - With the destruction of the Shagohod, and the deaths of Dr Sokolov, Colonel Volgin and the Cobra Unit, Operation Snake Eater is officially a success. Field operative Naked Snake is awarded title of "Big Boss"; however the location of operatives ADAM and EVA are unknown. The Philosophers Legacy is lost, presumably destroyed by The Boss. While on the mission, Naked Snake also acquires schematics for a walking tank from Russian scientist Granin.**

**1972 - Les Enfants Terribles begins, culminating in the births of three successful "Sons of Big Boss". The project is sponsored by the Secretary of Defence, who hopes to use Big Boss's DNA to create a perfect army. After the birth of the last son - codenamed Solidus – the funding is cut due to lack of mass produced results.**

**1995 - Outer Heaven uprising. Big Boss's forces and plans and most importantly the experimental weapon "Metal Gear" is destroyed by FOXHOUND operatives Grey Fox and Solid Snake. Big Boss is presumed dead.**

**1999 - Zanzibar Land Invasions. Grey Fox and Big Boss defeated by Solid Snake, with Big Boss's recovered remains confirming the kill. Grey Fox escapes captivity and disappears. Dr Marv and OILEX are not recovered from the operation. Following the mission, operative Solid Snake retires from FOXHOUND and the military, retreating to a home in the Alaskan wilderness. Many former members also retire, and Operative Liquid Snake assumes command of the new unit.**

**2005 - The Next-Generation Special Forces and the FOXHOUND unit are dispatched to Shadow Moses Island, Alaska, in a classified assignment. Accompanying them, though reluctantly, is former FOXHOUND operative Solid Snake.**

**00000**

Shadow Moses Island was a tiny spec in the ocean as the Pave Hawk fell below the clouds. Its occupants were silent as they approached; conversation was not possible over the noise of the engines, nor desired. There were seven – make that eight – of them on board, most sat idly around on their seats. Some watched through the windows of the craft as they began the landing sequence, but most did not. That was how FOXHOUND operative Solid Snake first knew the other members of his squad.

He knew their briefings of course: On his left were Psycho Mantis, a powerful psychic sadist; Sniper Wolf, who was currently believed to be the world's best sharpshooter; and Vulcan Raven, a huge man possessing unparalleled strength and skilled with heavy weapons. Glancing right, he would find Decoy Octopus - the squad's infiltrator - as well as Revolver Ocelot, who lived up to his namesake well enough with the Colt Single Action Army held on his hip. From what the briefings said, all were hardened veterans and professional killers. Their eyes confirmed what he had been told.

He expected nothing less from FOXHOUND.

That left one more member of the team however. Sitting opposite, and glaring at him the whole time, was Liquid Snake, a man with the same codename as himself. Both knew what that meant; he was a master at almost all fields of warfare, particularly stealth and frontline combat. The only higher distinction was "Fox", an honour only once claimed during the Units entire history.

Then there was the masked one. A rookie by the looks of it, they were sat up straight in their chair trying to hide the cautious or admiring glances they gave the other soldiers on board. Though whoever it was looked stoic enough to fool the average bystander, Snake could tell they were nervous of the presumably unexpected appearance of the legendary FOXHOUND Unit. Definitely they weren't a FOXHOUND operative themself. More likely they were replacing one of the troopers garrisoned on the island already, and if half of what he'd heard about them being 'simulated' soldiers was true, they was green as grass to boot.

The bump as the chopper touched down was enough to knock the still voiceless soldiers from their thoughts. Almost as one, FOXHOUND stood by their seats and made for the large sliding doors in an orderly manner. As they stepped off, the pilot said farewell through the intercom, though it was muted and not spoken with any confidence. There were too many legends for that. Snake noticed with a slight smirk that the masked one had remained seated until the rest of them were moving to the door.

Liquid was the first to hit the dirt, with the other members of his squad close behind. As Snake took in his surroundings, the chill hit him. Further north than even his own home on the Alaskan mainland, Shadow Moses was practically a floating iceberg. Fortunately, he was used to the unforgiving environment. Several others, particularly Raven from his twitching, were having a slightly harder time fending off the weather.

They were stood on a small landing pad on what appeared to be a sheer cliff face, sandwiched between the drop and the entrance of the Disposal Facility. Like the others, Snake scanned the walls for threats, caught himself, and then carried on regardless. Security cameras were everywhere, intermixed with the occasional sentry gun. More important were the men stationed throughout the area, both in the courtyard and on the walkway in front of them. Armed figures, dressed in snow gear and face-covering balaclavas. Next-Gen Special Forces, engineered to be genetically perfect soldiers. Like FOXHOUND, they had been called in to oversee an exercise happening on the facility over the next few days, though no one had informed Snake just what this exercise was, nor why so many men were required.

His Codec buzzed in his ear, silent to the others. For all he knew they too were receiving messages from their support teams as well. Angling his head slightly, the signal was accepted. The first man to speak was Colonel Campbell. "Well Snake, welcome to Shadow Moses. We're going to go over the details one more time." Snake groaned into the tiny device. A few soldiers were gesturing the squad to follow them, into the relative comfort of the facility. "-Over the course of the coming week, you are in field command of FOXHOUNDS black ops unit. Your job will be primarily ensuring the security of the facility and everything within it for the duration of the exercise."

Despite knowing Campbell wouldn't see, Snake shook his head slightly. Looking back up, he growled into the transmitter "Colonel, you still haven't told me what this exercise is. I need some answers now dammit!"

"I can't tell you any more than what I already have. Even I don't know everything that's happening here." Campbell sounded just as annoyed as Snake. "You have access to all level four security zones and below. Additional security clearance can be requested from either the DARPA Chief - one Donald Anderson - or the President of the Armstech Corporation, Kenneth Baker. Both will be on site for the duration of the exercise."

Again Snake growled when he spoke into the transmitter "This is already FUBAR Colonel. I'm a damn musher, not a squad leader! Hell, Liquid's file is almost golden! Why the hell am I needed here?"

"You don't have a damn choice Snake! It's too damn late to turn back now anyway; the helicopter's already gone."

A glance back to the helipad proved the Colonels words true. The Pave Hawk was ten meters above the ground and quickly making headway back to the base it came from. Whirling back to re-join the rest of the team who passed him by, Snake spoke one last time into the Codec. "When I get back, I'm expecting to find fifty perfectly cared for Huskie's waiting for me at my cabin. Are we clear Colonel?" He cut the signal.

On a submarine a hundred meters under the Bering Sea, Campbell quietly chuckled to himself, promising to ensure the displaced mushers dogs were treated well in their master's absence.

00000

As Meryl Silverburgh stepped off of the helicopter and onto Alaskan snow, she huffed a quiet sigh of relief. That had been one of the tensest journeys in her short career, and one which would likely not be topped for years to come. To think she had been on board the same Pave Hawk as the entire FOXHOUND Unit… unbelievable.

Subconsciously she reached for her left shoulder, where she knew the image of a cartoon fox was painted onto her skin. The unit's official logo, back when her uncle had been in command of it in the 1990's. The stories he'd told of the hero's within its ranks were worthy of legend. When she was young, they were tales of heroism, honour and even love - akin to the knights and princesses other little girls were told about.

Then later as she matured, the stories grew darker but no less spectacular. Her uncle spoke of gruelling, impossible operations made otherwise only through the sheer tenacity of the men and women under his command. Actions in the Gulf war, secret operations in the Falklands, Afghanistan, Zanzibar, and of course Outer Heaven. Where there was conflict, FOXHOUND was never far behind to clean up the mess.

Speaking of which, had one of those men been _the _Solid Snake in that chopper? They both certainly matched the descriptions from the stories, but she thought he'd retired after Zanzibar. What was he doing back in the unit? And why the hell were there two of him?!

Meryl mentally slapped herself when she realised just how much like a schoolgirl she sounded. Legend or no FOXHOUND was here with her- presumably to stay as well – but that shouldn't mean anything. She'd do her job just like she'd been trained regardless.

She turned her attention to a figure clad in heavy snow gear beckoning her into the facility. With no one else to say otherwise, she followed the soldier through the huge lead-lined gateway into the facility. Catching up, he turned his head to look at her, face covered by a white balaclava.

"So you're the replacement for Williams. Silverburgh?" he asked, gesturing towards the dog-tags dangling from her neck. Meryl looked down briefly at the silver chits in surprise before looking back at the masked man.

"Yes sir. Private First Class Meryl Silverburgh reporting sir." She spoke cleanly and clearly, months of training filling her voice with confidence and strength. The man nodded mutely before turning back to the hall they were in and continuing. Reaching the end, the man pushed the call button of the elevator they stopped at.

She thought he wasn't going to reply until the elevator finally arrived. "Sergeant James Witting." he replied over his shoulder as she moved to fall in step. "I'm in command of your squad. Welcome to Rat team Private."

If she was surprised by the unusual name for the squad she didn't show it. There were stranger call-signs one could be assigned… her nickname in training came to mind. What kind of tag was "Curtains" anyway? "Thank you sir." She paused for a moment, weighing her question in her mind "Sorry sir, but could you please tell me why we're really here? They don't call in Spec-Ops units like FOXHOUND to keep a disposal facility secure… or Genomes for that matter."

The Sergeant didn't even look back as he answered her query, "It'll be covered in briefing Private. That's where you're going once we get you equipped." It wasn't a satisfactory answer for her, but rank and the promise kept the sigh building in her throat from emerging. The elevator doors parted revealing a short corridor with a single door and two armed guards flanking it. "Ah, here we are." Witting said, swiping a high-tech looking key-card across the security door.

There was a barely audible whir as the barrier slid smoothly into its frame, revealing a room _filled_ with shelves of weapons, ammunition and equipment. From first glance alone, she could see rows upon rows of machine guns, sidearms, sniper rifles, grenades, launchers and other heavy-duty equipment. Witting must have caught the light gasp that slipped from her lips, because he chuckled. "Yep. As you can see, we get better toys than your average grunts." Meryl could only nod. It was a gun nuts dream come true, and even she was feeling a little giddy with excitement. "Okay, let's get you sorted." The Sergeant said, lightly pushing her into the room.

"What, I can just pick something?" Meryl asked, turning her head to take in the sheer amount of ordinance.

"Yep, you're in the Next-Gen program now. We're expected to know what we and our buddies do best, and act accordingly. So you get to pick your gear." He replied.

Meryl spent a few minutes sorting through the various weapons available. Sims had shown she worked best with a workhorse rifle, so taking one of the many FAMAS rifles lining the centre of the room made perfect sense. It wasn't until she moved to the sidearms that she noticed the funny look Witting was giving her. "There a problem, Sir? She asked, inspecting the .50AE Desert Eagle she'd pulled from the rack. Witting shook his head.

"No Private, so long as that monster ain't too big for you." He countered. She just laughed as a way of replying, slipping the huge gun into the holster she'd attached at her waist. Now armed, Meryl and the Sergeant exited the armoury, making their way back to the elevator.

"So are you going to tell me why we have more guns than a PMC stashed in that room back there?" she asked. Again Witting sidestepped the question, simply answering with "Listen to the briefing.", or curt shrugs.

'_Figures…'_ she thought _'Why the hell would I think he'd tell me anything else? They wouldn't send the two most advanced forces in the military out here without some seriously classified secrets to guard.'_

They'd walked for about three minutes when James rather suddenly pulled her to the side. Thinking they'd reached their destination, Meryl was surprised to find them in the doorway of an empty lab of some kind. She was about to ask what the hell was going on when a chorus of heavy steps became audible. Noting the _fear_ in Witting's eyes, Meryl opted to stay silent until they'd passed into silence again. The steps stopped abruptly, seemingly right outside the door they'd come in through. Despite herself, Meryl found she was holding a breath, infected by James's fear. Waiting for the door to slide open and reveal… someone.

Then they heard the steps resume, continuing back the way the two of them had come towards the armoury. When finally there was silence again, both soldiers let out the breaths they were holding.

"Wha- What just happened there?!" she asked, confused and a little scared as to what could put the fear of God into a trained and presumably experienced soldier like that. For a moment Witting remained silent

"It's FOXHOUND." He answered, once again stepping into the corridor and casting a nervous glance back the way they'd come. "Don't tell me you haven't heard the stories?" he asked incredulously. Meryl just gave him a blank if curious look, so he continued "Word in the unit is that FOXHOUND's been involved in practically every unexplained massacre in the last decade. Whole villages in third world nations just up and disappear, and the only thing linking them, every one of them, is the rumour of a FOXHOUND operative being sent in to 'deal' with things." He shot her a sidelong glance "They're all insane, ruthless and as violent as they come. You're lucky they were in a good mood on that helo. They could've ripped you apart and no-one would ever find out."

Meryl looked at the man with undisguised astonishment, "Wait, what? Where the hell did you here that bull?!" she asked.

"It's not exactly a secret. Half the guys in that unit openly confess to enjoy killing. The others may not _enjoy_ it per say, but they're damned good at it. And the governments not gonna just show off its ace in the whole because they kill a few GI's like us."

"No way, Sir! Their reputation is solid. Outer Heaven and Zanzibar alone prove that!" Meryl was starting to get a little angry. Who did Witting think he was bad-mouthing her uncles unit like that. She stepped in front to block their movement before he could sidestep yet more questions, but when she looked up at his mask she didn't find the irritated glare she was expecting. No, again Witting had the same look of fear he'd had mere seconds before.

"No Private, he's right." Meryl jumped as a third voice, more throaty than the Sergeants, entered the conversation from just behind her, "FOXHOUND has a bad rep, and for good reason. We don't even get called in before the situation goes FUBAR, and things only get worse from there. Don't forget Outer Heaven and Zanzibar both started with FOXHOUND's commanding officer, even if one of our operatives did put a stop to it. By my reckoning things haven't improved since Liquid took over."

The man, who was idly tapping with a lit cigarette as he spoke, made to move past. However, for one reason or another, he stopped a few paces past them. He glanced over his shoulder at the pair "You're the rookie who was on the chopper with us, right?" he asked bluntly.

Meryl suppressed the gasp of surprise and annoyance, both that he remembered and recognised her as "the rookie", even if by comparison she was one to any member of FOXHOUND. Eventually she nodded, and he turned back to the way his comrades had gone. "Here's a little advice. Pray you never have to get that close to us again."

00000

As he continued towards the armoury the rest of the FOXHOUND unit had already reached, Snake reflected a little on what had just been said. Hopefully his words would be a valuable lesson for the girl. He had no doubt she recognised him; the signs were all to evident in her eyes. Admiration crossed with an unhealthy mix of self-depreciation, fear and shyness were well known features in the eyes of those who knew what he had done. Hero worship…

Hopefully she'd learn the easy way that in this job there was no such thing as a hero, nor a villain. There were no winners or losers, no friend or foe. There was simply "us" and "them", and the details – who was with who - get fuzzier as time goes on.

Snake had strayed a little behind the rest of the unit. It took him a moment to find a cigarette and light it, but was worth the wait. Besides, from the looks of it the others were happy to follow Liquid. He'd have to be careful not to step on the man's toes if they were loyal to him. The last thing anyone needed was a civil war within the unit.

When he finally caught up, Snake was a little surprised to find the others stood around the entrance to the elevator. Catching Liquids eye, he nodded in appreciation. The other simply huffed to himself before turning and swiping a card across the door, dropping them down into the heart of the facility.

Five minutes later, the doors opened again. And from them slipped the dogs of war, armed and ready

**A.N: So what d'you think**? **Your opinion is appreciated, so please leave a review and let me know. **

**This fic is gonna be a fairly slow update. I've overwhelmed myself with work and now I;m being forced to divide my time between too much. I;m sticking a couple of my other works on hiatus soon, but until then updates will be few and far between. Hopefully though I'll make up for in quality what I lack in quantity.**


	2. Close Quarters Combat

**Close Quarters Combat**

A fortnight passed with little of interest occurring. FOXHOUND and the new replacements had been briefed on their objectives by the Armstech President, Kenneth Baker, soon after their arrival. Their purpose for being on the island was simple – prevent the theft and/or sabotage of any data and equipment within the facility. From what the old man had hinted, most assumed that the disposal facility was a front for experimental weapons testing; possibly nuclear ones given the nature of the location.

With START3 scheduled in less than a month, it was no wonder Washington wanted to keep a lid on their nuclear weapons program. Then there were the Next-Generation Special Forces, or Genomes as they'd been nicknamed. Officially the government condemned such programs as immoral and in violation of several international sanctions. Officially, they didn't exist.

The objective was simple enough to follow. Indeed Snake wondered to himself why the government had gone to such lengths to bring not only FOXHOUND but also himself for the mission. There were fully trained teams capable of doing the job just as well if not better than them, so the only advantage using FOXHOUND gave was anonymity. A black-ops unit didn't leave a paper trail.

Though he tried, asking Campbell about it was no use either. Even a layman could tell someone else was pulling the man's strings.

For a week or so things had been quiet. When he'd finally fully accepted that an easy escape was not an option Snake had settled fairly quickly into his role. Unfortunately the first item on the agenda had been running security checks on the scientists and workers already stationed on-site. As he suspected they all checked out, but that didn't mean much if there was a sleeper agent in their midst. Thankfully, Snake was able to rely on the help of both the unit and members of the Next-Generation Forces, who had all arrived too recently to be one themselves.

On the second week however, things went missing. A few eggheads had been up-in-arms about missing files, and a light was seen from the top of one of the Comm towers. When the witness reached the roof though, all that was left was a nylon rope hastily knotted around the railings.

In response Snake had posted additional men at the base of the tower, but he knew it was a waste of time. If the agent in question was halfway competent they'd be laying low for a few weeks at least. Nothing he could do until whoever the mole was exposed themself again.

00000

"So you've all got a basic understanding of CQC, right?" Snake asked the crowd. Around him, twenty masked soldiers nodded in affirmation. The Tank Hangar they were sheltered in provided moderate protection from the harsh cold outside, but even so most of the men chose to continue wearing their balaclavas and snow gear. "Good. Let's get started then. Connors!" he yelled.

One of them, a large man even for a Genome, stepped forward into the circle they had left around the FOXHOUND operative. The newcomer dramatically cracked his knuckles, settling into a fighting stance both Snake and the others were all too familiar with. Hands raised lightly in front of him, and held with the illusion of being limp or weak, the classic stance of CQC was demonstrated.

"Not bad rookie." Snake congratulated, and meant it. Even basic CQC was difficult to master; the concept of convincingly feigning weakness went so far against natural desire to intimidate that many settled for simply learning the techniques, but not the spirit of the art. Connors had clearly extensively covered both.

"Thank you, Sir!" the man replied. He didn't mention his distaste at being called 'rookie'. Within a few days of his arrival it became apparent to everyone that Snake did not count VR training when deciding who deserved to be called an equal.

Without another word the two settled into stance and position. It was a simple one-on-one sparring session, with no restrictions besides eye-gouging or using weapons. The front row of the circle backed up a little as the fight began.

Snake made the first move, darting forwards at his opponent. Slightly surprised by the seemingly reckless assault, Connors ducked and swung low, aiming to swipe the operatives legs from under him. He was half successful, as Snake was swept over by the contact. Unfortunately for Connors, Snake reacted faster than he'd expected and recovered from the fall with a roll, putting him behind the Genome as he'd intended.

Turning on the spot, Snake attempted to put Connors in a chokehold, which would have succeeded had the larger man not dived forwards and out of reach. Someone cheered, apparently happy to see their comrade successfully survive the first encounter and seemingly start with a win. After all, Snake had yet to land a blow on the man.

This time Connors moved first, edging forward until his superior reach allowed him to again strike at Snake from relative safety. Snake took the chance to slide up to and past the man's arms. In two simultaneous motions, he hooked his leg around Connors's and punched forward, pushing him by the throat. Caught by gravity, Connors tripped backwards and crashed to the ground, unable to breath.

Snake knelt down next to the fallen fighter, watching with mild amusement as he clutched futilely at his throat. When finally Connors had recovered enough to breath, Snake began the review. "You started out good. But those last punches were too cautious. You don't want to overextend yourself in a real fight." He stood up, offering his hand to the other man "You need to commit one way or the other. Fight to win, or escape while you can. There's no use in hanging on the wire in a battle." He pulled the trooper up. "Butthat _was_ pretty good technique. Follow instructions and you'll be tossing around with the best of them."

Connors saluted before returning to the circle. Snake was slightly surprised to find that despite their comrade's rather defeat no one was mocking or in fact even paying attention to him. Instead their gazes all remained on Snake. It made him feel a bit uncomfortable; enough to make him reach for a cigarette.

"Allright!" Snake called, tapping the butt of the cigarette to clear the ash. "Get into your teams. Take down your opposing pair by any means necessary, then when you're done winners move onto the next pair. Last ones standing get a packet of smokes."

Almost immediately the sound of twenty soldiers grappling, punching, kicking, clawing and grunting echoed throughout the hangar. He noticed that there were no battle-cries. More than a few Genomes were already clearly hurting from the exercise, but none screamed or yelled. It was actually quite quiet. It was unsettling.

They fought well too. More than most soldiers he'd met on the battlefield, the ones around him simply refused to give up the fight. Even while they were pinned on the ground they thrashed like rabid dogs, doing whatever they could to stay in the game long enough for their team-mates to rescue them. Several refused to yield entirely, deciding that being knocked unconscious was preferable to just giving in. By the end of the first round of fights two of the teams were eliminated. Hound and Bear had put up a hell of a fight, but eventually Rat and Hawk had emerged the triumphant, if bloodied, victors.

There was no timeout between the two fights. Hawk had the luxury of a minutes rest while Rat team ended their first engagement, but the latter group was given no such time. To make matters worse for Rat team one of their men, Jonathan, had been eliminated in the previous fight, leaving them with one less than Hawk.

Those left in Rat formed up as best as they were able, with their heavy hitters – a couple of men named Snake knew as Witting and Ed – facing their rivals whilst their less effective members held the flanks. A sound strategy, though Snake wondered whether the choice would pay off in a weighted engagement. Hawk for their part were taking their time, confident in their chances against the smaller and more exhausted group. They were advancing steadily though, clearly intending to deny Rat team any chance of respite before the fight began.

Then Witting ordered something Snake hadn't expected at all. With a yell he and the Ed charged Hawk team, closing the gap between the surprised troopers in seconds and getting stuck into the fight! They attacked ferociously, swinging wild, heavy punches and forcing Hawk to counter. Almost instantly one of Hawk fell to the floor after a brutal hit to the head from Witting. However this allowed the others time to prepare for the coming attack. Unfortunately, even in a four to two engagement, Rat's fewer troopers didn't last long at all. Despite their initial successfully in taking down the first of Hawks members, both were finally subdued and knocked down with no further casualties.

However while Hawk was focused on the heavies, they didn't notice the other two Rat members approaching from their blind spots. Before they could realise what was happening the trap was sprung. The comedic relief of the team, Johnny, struck first. Though not as cleanly as Snake had hoped, he quickly locked one of Hawk in a chokehold, putting the unfortunate man between himself and the other troopers. And then, while attention was again on the "threat" the Rookie made her move.

It wasn't clean, or by any means conventional, but even Snake found himself smirking when that tiny girl managed to throw the unsuspecting Hawk trooper over her shoulder and into his comrade. Before they could even begin to pick themselves up she was beating the living daylights out of the one closest. His arms finally fell limp to the ground as he passed out.

Unfortunately for her however, their ploy had failed to target the last member of Hawk. Before she could move on to the other downed trooper, the Rookie was grappled from behind, and put into a lock which kept her kneeled and locked in place. Knowing she couldn't bust out of it on her own, though despite struggling anyway, her head snapped to her last standing comrade for help. She was disappointed when she saw that somehow Johnny had not only lost control of his captive, but that his role had been reversed. There would be no help from him.

She struggled on for about a minute before finally accepting that she wasn't going to break her captors grip. The crowd watched as she visibly deflated, and grudgingly conceded the match to her opponent. Satisfied with their victory he released the grip, so that she fell splayed on the floor. He turned expectantly... and dove to the floor as he almost walked into the pistol sighted between his eyes.

Ocelot chuckled slightly at the surprised Genome's reaction. No one had even noticed him until he levelled the gun. Not even Snake. Slowly, steadily, almost mockingly, his Colt followed the terrified man who was now cowering on the floor.

" Bang!" he shouted, spinning the weapon back into its holster. Grinning, the old man turned to Snake, "You know, it's been a while, but I was pretty good at this back in the day. Care for a go?" he asked, holding out his hand in invitation.

Snake looked down at the hand, then back at his face "Depends. Who taught you?"

Ocelot grinned in response. "An answer for a fight." He declared. It was a fair enough deal, and one Snake was willing to oblige. Besides, it couldn't hurt to find out the older man's capabilities in hand-to-hand.

The handshake was a trap, and Snake knew it even before he reached over, subtly tensing to counter whatever Ocelot might have planned. What happened next surprised him more than anything else. Ocelot punched him, square on the nose. The simple jab knocked him back a step, and that was all the time Ocelot needed to hook his leg behind him and push, sending his CO to the ground.

"Come on Snake! I said a fight, not a punching bag!" he yelled, even as his opponent leapt back to his feet. Then the fight _really_ began.

Later in the barracks soldiers who watched the scene argued for hours over how to describe what they had happened. The two men became a blur of punches, kicks and grapples; neither ever showing signs of pain or fatigue. It was only when they broke apart, neither having the upper-hand after almost ten minutes of constant combat, that they allowed such things to surface.

Panting and sweating, the two glared cautiously for a further minute before Ocelot broke the silence which had flooded the hanger. "Ahh, I've waited so long for a real battle like that. Congratulations, Snake." he praised. The younger fighter continued to stare coldly at him before replying.

"So who did teach you then?" He asked, whispers of curiosity audible in his voice.

"I suppose I owe you that answer now. The man who taught me was a member of FOXHOUND even when you were an _official _operative." Ocelot was grinning again "In fact, you were taught by the same man I was; the greatest soldier in reported history." With that, Ocelot turned on his heel and paced to the elevator.

And Snake watched him the whole time, left speechless by Ocelots revelation. And in his mind he heard only one name, repeating over and over:

"_Big Boss"_


End file.
